


You Are My Road

by ymirschristas



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Cultural References, Depression, Domestic Violence, F/F, Forbidden Love, Life Drama, Ottoman Era AU, Period-Typical Sexism, Religious Conflict, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:58:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymirschristas/pseuds/ymirschristas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 16th Century Constantinople, the culture is colourful, and the wars even more so. Krista, the illegitimate daughter of a bookshop owner, seeks friendship and comfort in a world that does not want her, whilst Ymir, an orphaned apprentice of a fishmonger, seeks to live up to the legend of her ancestry. When they cross paths, their roads become one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I - Krista

**Author's Note:**

> I've posted this on FF.net but I thought it would be good to have this here too!

" _I am a traveler, You are my road.  
I go from You to You."_

_\- Zeynep Hatun_

* * *

**I - Krista  
** _Year 1508_

* * *

Mornings were her favourite time of the day.

It was the rising sun over Constantinople which had reddened her cheeks. The rays had caressed her skin and shook her awake. It was the warmth that gave her the purpose she craved, the purpose of life that drove her to live to the full each day.

Mornings were when she would wake up before six to cook breakfast for her father, and have a small cup of Turkish coffee. The breakfast she cooked she would keep warm by the stove, waiting for her father to wake up and eat. After getting dressed, she would pick up a few of the books she had brought home to read and find her way walking down the narrow roads of her city.

From where she lived, it was only at least a fifteen minute walk to the Grand Bazaar. As she walked, she passed by water-bearers, fishmongers, bakers and other people whom were already set about their business for the day. The sky held hues of pink, blue and purple, which contested for power in the heavens. And the sun –

Krista breathed in deeply. The sun was _breathtaking_. It created a spectrum of affectionate colours upon the stones of the buildings, upon the early shadows, upon her face of ivory.

When she turned the last street, there stood one of the few entrances to the Grand Bazaar. Though most of the population was not yet awake, there was a good number of shopkeepers moving around, making the preparations to open their stores. The Bazaar was a mixture of armories, tailors, bakers, spice vendors, carpet vendors, and so much more.

She made her way to where her bookstore was – actually, it was her father's, but that didn't matter. It was his name in the papers, it was him whom received the money, but truly, it was her heart that carried the business. Her passion for literature, her love for poetry and prose which kept it running. Krista went behind the counter and began taking the cloths off the books. Quickly, she dusted the covers with the palm of her hand, and as she went through the spines on her bookshelf, she felt her own fingers trace their golden titles.

Sighing, she sat on her stool and pulled the wooden box from under the counter, making sure she had enough change for customers.

The morning passed slowly, and she was left to her daily pondering of whether there was something else out there for her. She was…satisfied with her life, but perhaps there was some…something else – just _something_. The very word made her teeth grind because she couldn't understand – she didn't know what she really wanted, or what she was searching for, and it was frustrating. She cursed her mind for dwelling on places where it wasn't meant to dwell. It was her place, as a woman, to do what her father told her, not to seek other pleasures or desires.

It was nearly lunch when she came back down to earth. The crowds became thicker, but they mostly flocked around the stalls aside from her own. The bookstore did have a big following, but today, none of the usual customers of scholars were around.

Krista placed one of her books on the counter and began to flick through the pages, uninterested. She had read it at least five times over and almost memorized it cover to cover. Her mind began swirling with the poetry of Ovid, until-

"Is that Metamorphoses?"

A husky voice compelled her to look up in surprise.

There stood a tall, freckled brunette with piercing, amber eyes. Her trousers were ragged, tied around her waist with a long piece of rope, and seemed like they were crafted from potato sacks. Her clothes reeked of fish and crabmeat, and of the salty Bosphorus Sea. Krista felt her heart flutter – she was the most attractive woman she had ever had the pleasure of seeing. She simply stared at her, mouth slightly agape.

"Are you going to answer me?" The brunette asked, putting her hands against her hips.

Nodding her head, Krista regained her composure. "Y-yes – yes, this is Metamorphoses. Have you read it before?"

Her ponytail shook. "No, I haven't. Is that copy for sale?"

"No, I'm sorry – this is my copy. But I could request an order for it if you want."

"No, no, it's okay, I uh, I wouldn't have the money to buy it anyway."

Krista smiled. "So what brings you here?"

"I just thought I'd go for a stroll here. Saw this shop. Got curious. Any customers?"

"Sadly, business is not good today."

For a good thirty seconds they eyed each other in silence, both smiling, Krista more obvious, showing teeth, with the brunette girl only lifting the corners of her mouth.

The girl then chuckled. "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Ymir."

"And I'm," _what's my name again?_ The blonde thought, "I'm Krista."

"Well, from what I have seen so far, Krista, you're very interested in poems."

Grinning even wider, Krista agreed with a short, happy sigh. "Yes, good observation, Ymir. Do you have a favourite poet in mind?"

"I would say…Rumi. Or perhaps Hafiz." Ymir leaned in and rested her elbow on the counter.

"How romantic. I wouldn't have seen you as the type."

"No?"

"No."

"Is it because I'm dressed like a beggar?" Ymir grinned. "It's bad to judge a book by its cover, _ҫiҫek_."

"I assure you, I am no flower!" Krista harrumphed. "Well I suppose, I was judging a little bit."

"Truth be told, I'm a humble person working on the docks and on the ships. I catch the finest fish. I am the best!" The brunette raised her arms and shook her hands with pizzazz.

"Oh?" Krista giggled. "Why don't we strike a deal, then?"

"Go ahead. I'm listening."

"Come by again tomorrow, with the freshest, finest fish. For that, I'll give you my copy of Metamorphoses."

"Hm. I'm not sure how I'll manage to snatch one from under the noses of my superiors, but for you _ҫiҫek_ , the best fish in the sea." Ymir bowed dramatically. "I will see you tomorrow then."

With that, she left and disappeared into the crowd of the Grand Bazaar.

Meanwhile, Krista sat there, mind elsewhere, thinking about her. How she had somehow poured spice into her day and made that small difference. People like that rarely make such an entrance. Her thoughts then wandered into the image of the girl's freckles, and she pictured connecting them one by one, all the tiny stars on her face –

"Miss?"

An awaiting customer stared down at her, eyebrows raised.

"Oh! I'm sorry," she said, "were you interested in buying a book?" She had forgotten that she was operating the store, that there were actually other customers to serve.

"Some scrolls, actually. Maps, perhaps?"

"Of course, let me have a look around for you…"

###

At dinner that evening, they were quiet as usual. There was really nothing to be said. She knew what he did all day. Mooching up to the high priests and the politicians near Topkap׀ Palace. He was a man of middle build, with cropped hair and a moustache that swept his upper lip. From a first glance, no one would think that he was anyone important, but truthfully, he was a man of great power. What power, Krista had no idea of. He never bothered to tell her. After all, she was only his bastard.

But perhaps her meeting with Ymir was a signal of change. So, she spoke.

"So…Father, it wasn't too busy today."

He grunted through a mouthful of _bazlama._

"None of the usual customers. Perhaps a scholar or two, and even this…this girl."

His silence should have discouraged her to continue speaking, but she couldn't help herself. Suddenly the chickpeas on her plate became the source of her for idle entertainment.

"She works at the docks. I don't think she has any family. I wonder where she lives. Perhaps not too far from the sea. Do you happen to know any fishermen, Father?"

He shook his head. At this point, he had stopped eating and began to stare at her with odd indifference and warning. "Do not climb into the walls of people," he said. "It is none of your business to tread in their cities."

Krista shrunk. "It's just…I've never had a friend, and…she just seemed like she'd be a good one."

"You know why I've made you stay away from kids before."

To this day, she could still feel the rough edge of the stones that had cut across her cheek and her forehead. To this day, she remembered the names they called her. To this day, she remembered why it was forbidden for her to utter her _real_ name. To even _think_ of it.

"I know," she replied, voice turning thick. "But…she doesn't know me, Father. And I won't tell her. I won't give the slightest hint that I'm H-"

"Enough." He wiped his mouth with a piece of cloth, hands curling into fists. "Just…just see to it that nothing becomes so serious between you two that you let something slip."

He stood up, tossed the cloth on the table and began to head upstairs. "Do the dishes, clean everything up, and then go straight to bed."

Relieved that her Father gave her the blessing of making a friend, she gave an absentminded nod. "Yes…Father."

###

That night she dreamt, she dreamt of the ocean and the tall, freckled girl who tamed it.

* * *

**GLOSSARY**

__ҫiҫek - flower_ _

__bazlama - single-layered, flat, circular and leavened bread with a creamish yellow colour_ _


	2. II - Ymir

**II - Ymir**

* * *

As the day struck noon, Ymir hastily held to the latest net that pulled. The rays above glared down at her already-sunbathed arms, the yellow awash upon her bronzed skin. Her sleeves were folded back up to her shoulders, exhibiting rippling muscles that have been branded on from years and years of hard labour. The air was filled with the clamor of her fellow fishermen, of those coming in to dock their _qayїk_. There were clapping ripples of turquoise sea against the barnacle-ridden docks, and soaring seagulls against the long sunshine.

" _Hadi, hadi!_ " Shadis barked. "Quickly, bring it up! Looks like it's a big one!"

Ymir's mentor-figure was a bald man with sunken, dried-up eyes that made it look as if he hadn't slept in days. A sharp, brown goatee decorated his chin. When Ymir was absolutely dirt-poor and clawing for coin in the streets, he taught her the art of fishing and gave her a job at his small, but thriving business. Though they aren't close, or as close as one would think between a trainee and a trainer, Ymir has always been grateful for his help.

"Okay, Sasha, we'll do it at my count," said Ymir to the girl on the other side of the net. " _Bir, iki, üҫ!_ "

Together, they lifted the net with a few grunts. It was pleasantly heavy – pleasant, because that meant more fish. More fish, well, more coin. They slapped the net upon the dock and let go of the strings. The fishes' scales glittered dreamily and hazily underneath the sun as they bounced up and down. It was mainly a school of _uskumru_ , but amongst it laid a huge _palamut_ of which the like Ymir has never seen.

Sasha moved to Ymir's side and with her forearm, wiped her sweaty brow. "Good haul for lunch, ey?" She was, maybe, a year or two younger than Ymir, and sported long, dark auburn hair that was always tied up. They got along fairly well, and though Ymir was sure she intimidated her a fair bit, at least she was nice enough to stick around.

"Heh." Ymir smirked. "Got that right. This good enough for you, Shadis?"

"Very good," he said. "Satisfactory."

"Do I have your permission to spend the rest of my day off?"

"Hm." He scratched his chin. "You've never asked for a day off before, not really."

"Well, I've got things to do!"

"You mean, a girl to impress." Sasha nudged her in the ribs.

"Is that so?" Shadis asked, eyebrows high.

"Aw, come on." Ymir tried her best not to blush.

"What, is it like a date?" Sasha giggled. "Are you going to give her flowers?"

"Even better." Ymir eyed the thrashing _palamut_ in the net, smiling.

###

Krista stared at the fish with eyes as big as plates, her mouth slightly unhinged. It lay fresh and very much dead on a bed of long, broad leaves. The scales were like diamonds – fish like this were the true jewels of the ocean. Such a heavy haul could be easily sold for a hefty bag of coppers. Ymir had stopped just in time for lunch, but Krista barely expected her to come back, let alone bring a fish. Some part of Krista told her that meeting the brunette was part of an elaborate set-up from her imagination. She was relieved, and extremely happy, to know that it wasn't.

"I can't believe it," she said. "A prize-winning _palamut_!"

"I told you, didn't I?" Ymir placed her hands on her hips. "I am the best!"

"Indeed," agreed Krista. She placed Metamorphoses on the counter. "Here it is. A deal is a deal."

Ymir inhaled sharply and let the tips of her fingernails adorn the leather bindings. The smell it held was ancient, fossilized – it whispered stories of fame, strength, and old glory. Without opening it, she recited:

_"_ _When this disguise I carry shall be no more,_  
And all the treacherous years of life undone,  
And yet my name shall rise to heavenly music,  
The deathless music of the circling stars."

Krista stared at her in wondrous stillness. The exact line numbers appeared in her head. _XV. 871-879_. "I thought…I thought you hadn't read it."

"My father had this stanza carved into his shield. I used to polish it for him." Ymir smiled. "It was the reason I knew _of_ Metamorphoses, the reason why I wanted to read it."

There was common ground between them. The way Ymir spoke about her father sounded melancholy, almost nostalgic. It reached out for a man who was once there, but not anymore.

Krista cupped Ymir's hand over the book. It was warm, but callous and rocky, as she expected it to be. "It's yours now. You have forever to read it."

Ymir blushed profusely. "I suppose I do." Before she could embarrass herself further, she turned to leave. "I remembered, I have things to do. I should go-"

Krista stretched herself out. "Wait!"

Ymir twisted her head to look at her, Metamorphoses in one hand.

"It's a big fish. Too big for one girl like me. Join me for lunch." Her eyes were on their knees, begging.

Ymir sighed, and juggled the thought in her mind with sheer panic. _Why would she want to be with you? You smell like shit! Ymir, get your act together._

"Alright. I know a good place that would fry it for us."

###

It was a very small barbecue restaurant which thrived on the money of working class citizens. It overlooked the Bosphorus Sea, with a thin and tired mat tied above the outdoor area of the restaurant. A burly man wearing a white, cotton shirt was standing in front of a charcoal-fuelled stovetop roasting lamb. This was one of the liveliest places Krista had seen. It was populated by street urchins and the poorer masses, but it was not grim. The colours of Constantinople seemed to have a stronger presence where the masses are, not where the masses are held. Richer districts missed out on this. They were seated at a wooden long table next to three other patrons.

When the _palamut_ was plated in front of them, Krista offered some to the ones next to them. They accepted it, and thanked her. They each rose a glass in her honour.

Ymir mixed in some lentils with her portion of fish and began eating. "You're too nice, __ҫiҫek__."

Krista delightfully crunched on the more charred bits of the fish's skin. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

"Some people take advantage of that. People like me."

"Oh?"

"Not to you, though. We're good, my flower." Ymir swallowed and smirked up at Krista. "That is, until you stop giving me books."

Krista flicked Ymir's nose. "Don't push it."

Ymir dipped her fingers in the small bowl of humus they shared. She smeared some on Krista's cheek. A playful grin appeared on her face. "Oh! Would you look at that? You have something on your face."

"My revenge will not be merciful," giggled Krista, wiping the substance off her cheek.

###

Lunch trailed on, and soon, the _palamut_ was nothing but a pile of sharp bones. They licked their plates clean and finished everything in sight. They thanked the owner of the restaurant for a cheap and hearty meal, and walked off. Krista suggested they go for a stroll along the docks of the bay, passing the Golden Horn and the coastal merchants and workers whom did not let the gradual sunset stop them from their work. The breeze became cold, temperatures dropped, and what kept Krista warm was the company of Ymir. Their talks were long and varied, ranging from the new fashions at the Bazaar down to the architecture of the Hagia Sophia. When it grew darker, however, Krista had explained her father was waiting for her, probably fuming, and she had to leave. Ymir offered to walk her home, but the blonde refused, stating that it wasn't wise to do so. They bid their goodbyes and Ymir promised to visit the bookstore more often.

Ymir walked back towards her home, only guided by the feint moon and the lanterns which were lit above the streets. She shared a wooden shack with Sasha, very close to where Shadis and the other fishermen lived. When she opened the door, she was greeted with a pleasant smell of boiled vegetables. Sasha was standing over a steaming, copper pot of swirling leeks and carrots.

"Good day?" Sasha asked in greeting.

"Yes, a very good day." She put Metamorphoses on their table.

"I've never seen you so amiable. Who is this girl again?"

"Her name is Krista." Ymir sat on their living room mat with her head against the wall.

Sasha turned off the heat and placed a lid on the pot. She sat beside Ymir. "Describe her to me."

"Her hair, the colour of…gilded gold." She visualized her, conjured her. Made her appear.

"Like the gold in Topkap׀ Palace?" Even Sasha saw an imaginary girl in front of her.

"Yes. Exactly like that. And eyes, bluer than the Bosphorus, like sapphires. A smile that would make the deaf hear and the blind see."

Sasha snorted. "Now you're just making her up."

"I'm not! Her beauty is so real I cannot comprehend it myself."

"My friend, you are one lovestruck _salak_."

" _Kendinizi sopa,_ Sasha."

Sasha laughed. "I'm surprised she was not deterred by your colourful vocabulary."

Ymir shook her head, and then sighed happily.

###

Words of long-lost poets entered her dreams that night, accompanied by an angel with hair spun of the stars.

* * *

**GLOSSARY**

__qayїk - boat  
_ _

___hadi - come on  
_ _ _

____Bir, iki, üҫ - one, two, three  
_ _ _ _

_uskumru - mackerel fish  
_

__palamut- Atlantic bonito fish  
_ _

__ҫiҫek_ \- flower  
_

__salak - idiot  
_ _

_Kendinizi sopa - stick yourself_


End file.
